


Follies

by Anonymous



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Metaphysics, Philosophy, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Screenplay/Script Format, a lot of wine, two drunken immortals dancing around the obvious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:34:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28114710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In the years prior to the Apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale have six conversations in the back of a Soho bookshop.[A play.]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11
Collections: Anonymous





	Follies

[August 2007. CROWLEY and AZIRAPHALE are lounging in the back room of the bookshop, both quite obviously drunk.]

CROWLEY

It's mad.

AZIRAPHALE

Well, of course, it is, it's the Antichrist.

CROWLEY

No, no - it’s something new, something more.

AZIRAPHALE

To think, all of this, gone in a few years. The blink of an eye, really. How many years did you say?

CROWLEY

Twelve. We have to stop him. Distract him somehow.

AZIRAPHALE

What do you suggest? Perhaps a little ... _(Drags finger across the throat in a slicing motion.)_

CROWLEY

For fuck’s sake, angel.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Shrugs.)_ You _are_ a demon. And Hell is unto itself as it is to -

CROWLEY

Yeah, yeah, I get it. _(Shifts in chair, obviously inebriated.)_ You don’t suppose that -

AZIRAPHALE

That?

CROWLEY

Well, if he can think everything out of existence, perhaps we could think everything back into existence. Or, you know, keep as is. You get the drift.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Shocked.)_ Crowley! That’s sacrilegious, it’s the Lord’s _express_ power of Creation, you cannot suppose...

CROWLEY

Well, the Antichrist has the power.

AZIRAPHALE

Yes.

CROWLEY

And Satan gave that power to him.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Hesitant.)_ I suppose rather - yes.

CROWLEY

And what is Satan - an angel, right? A bit smudged but, well, you know. Cut from the ethereal cloth, so to speak.

AZIRAPHALE

You’re not serious.

CROWLEY

As a heart attack.

AZIRAPHALE

How would it work?

CROWLEY

 _(Shrugs.)_ Not sure. Haven’t worked out all the kinks just yet. Perhaps if you just think very hard about something, focusing power on it but not a miracle. Just by thinking, trying to change the nature of it by concentration. Like this, turn this wine into water.

AZIRAPHALE

This port is _forty-five_ years old, Crowley, and I’m nearly out.

CROWLEY

And if the world ends, you’ll be completely out.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Sighs.)_ Fine, but if this ruins my good port, you’re buying another case.

CROWLEY

Deal.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Screws up face, concentrating. Opens his eyes and finds the port still in his glass.)_ Nothing happened.

CROWLEY

Well, worth a shot. We have to keep trying.

AZIRAPHALE

The world does not work that way. It’s reality.

CROWLEY

And what is reality? Fiction - from a certain point of view. From God’s point of view. She wrote _us_. We might not even have forms to Her, have you ever considered that? What if we’re nothing but words on a page, what if She’s just a regular human on another plane of existence, dreaming us into being?

AZIRAPHALE

You’re quite drunk, aren’t you?

CROWLEY

Not _nearly_ drunk enough. Pass that over, would you?

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Passes the bottle.)_ So if we are simply - well, characters - in the grand drama of Her imagination, how do you account for free will?

CROWLEY

We don’t have free will.

AZIRAPHALE

Well, the humans do.

CROWLEY

Do they? Or do we - and they - just think they do? That’s the trouble of it, isn’t it, any argument can be countered by the idea that it’s made up.

AZIRAPHALE

That we are up against the expanse and limits of fictional form.

CROWLEY

Sure, whatever.

AZIRAPHALE

It would explain a great deal, however.

CROWLEY

 _(Settling back into the sofa.)_ Mmm, does it?

AZIRAPHALE

Well, if you consider, the entire shape of the Biblical story follows exactly that - of a story. There was a clear beginning, a middle, and an end. Well, I suppose it’s an end to come but I digress. But if we are to map history against the traditional pattern of fiction, we should find ourselves in the peak of the rising action currently - which one might argue that, in the search for the Antichrist - we are. It is rather convenient, I must admit.

CROWLEY

You see my point, angel.

AZIRAPHALE

I truly do not know what to make of it - or you, for that matter.

CROWLEY

If we know the playing field, then we can form a plan.

AZIRAPHALE

But we have a plan.

CROWLEY

A bad plan. I want a good plan. Full of good stuff.

AZIRAPHALE

You’re ridiculous.

CROWLEY

 _(Closing eyes.)_ Indulge me, angel.

AZIRAPHALE

Well, I suppose. In the meantime - _(Pulls out a pack of cards.)_ Pick a card, Crowley.

CROWLEY

 _(Popping one eye open, looking suspicious.)_ Not this again. _(Pulls a card from the stack, it’s the nine of clubs.)_ God, not again. You’re cheating, you can’t use miracles.

AZIRAPHALE

 _(Superciliously.)_ The law of probability is not a miracle, Crowley, unless it’s in _Her_ hands.

CROWLEY

 _(Squinting, quite drunkenly.)_ Hold up, I'm on the edge of figuring out something.

AZIRAPHALE

Figuring out what?

CROWLEY

I don’t know - I nearly had it. And then, there it goes, gone again.

AZIRAPHALE

You had nothing.

CROWLEY

Swear to Her I did. I’d stake my life on it.

AZIRAPHALE

You’d wager on it?

CROWLEY

Yes.

AZIRAPHALE

Pick a card.

CROWLEY

Wait, I’ve a riddle for you.

AZIRAPHALE

No, you don't. You're just trying to avoid picking a card.

CROWLEY

No, no, seriously. I do.

AZIRAPHALE

Oh, bother. I hate riddles.

CROWLEY

No, you don’t. You asked me a riddle last week.

AZIRAPHALE

That was not a _riddle,_ Crowley, I merely asked you if you believed in true love.

CROWLEY

Sounds like a bloody riddle to me.

AZIRAPHALE

I truly cannot understand why you insist on being so entirely difficult. It’s quite a simple yes or no answer.

CROWLEY

How can it be simple? Think about it, angel. First, define love.

AZIRAPHALE

Well, it’s ... _(Pauses, thinking.)_ It’s, oh, you know. It’s _love._

CROWLEY

But what is that exactly? Devotion? Passion? Attraction? You’re devoted to your books and cakes -

AZIRAPHALE

And you, your plants.

CROWLEY

Yes, exactly. But is _that_ what you’re asking about?

AZIRAPHALE

Well, no. I mean between humans. Well, sentient beings, I suppose.

CROWLEY

So the whole shebang then? Humans and the ethereal and occult realms above and below?

AZIRAPHALE

You know as well as I that demons cannot love, Crowley.

CROWLEY

Then what’s the rule? The set definition? Angels and humans then? Angels don’t have souls, so that’s not it.

AZIRAPHALE

God’s love.

CROWLEY

God loves turtles. Do turtles love?

AZIRAPHALE

Will you just - ! Look, get on with it, what’s your damned riddle?

CROWLEY

I’ve forgotten it.

AZIRAPHALE

I cannot believe you.

CROWLEY

And going back to what you said about the law of probability - that was what you said, wasn’t it - how do you know that true love has anything to do with being right for each other? Seems to me it’s luck of the draw really. A couple of peas thrown in a pod. They might be awful for each other. Complete opposites. They shouldn't even think about it, put them together and poof! They'll ruin everything, blow each other up, whatever.

AZIRAPHALE

She wouldn’t let that happen.

CROWLEY

 _(Drawling.)_ Look around you, angel. C'mon. Yeah, She would.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, full cop that I love Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead.


End file.
